


The Archer's Paradox

by Empress Wu (Asheru)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-24
Updated: 2004-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asheru/pseuds/Empress%20Wu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You might imagine that a straight and balanced arrow should be shot straight at a target in order to hit it. In reality, it takes an arrow a short distance to straighten out and fly true, and a traditional archer must therefore aim the arrow off target to hit it. This is the "archer's paradox."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Archer's Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to and beta'd by my dearest darling [Mirabile Dictu](http://mirabile_dictu.livejournal.com).

Step 1: Stance

 _Put the tip of your toes against an imaginary line leading straight to the centre of the target.  
Put your feet either side of this line, about a shoulder's width apart.  
Try to relax._

By the time their plane touched down in Wellington, after several years of celebrating Billy's birthday, Orlando felt like the contents of his brain had been vacuum packed and stowed in the hold. The two of them stared blankly at the luggage carousel, thinking half-stoned thoughts about the cyclical nature of life and wondering when they would next get breakfast.

"This reminds me of that game show that was on, oh probably before you were born," said Billy, eyeing a life-sized sheep encased in bubble wrap warily.

Orlando raised an eyebrow.

"People had to watch things on a conveyor belt, and they got to keep anything they remembered seeing."

"Did they get anything good?" asked Orlando, wondering who in their right mind would put a harp in the hold.

"Nah, they always had really naff things like teas maids, an' those blow up bouncy balls you sit on an' hold by the ears. An' bread bins," said Billy.

Orlando started giggling, and then found he could not stop. It was all too surreal, the series of random chances that had led to him being here, having a mad conversation with a Scotsman about bread bins. And this was going to be his life for the next year and a half...

When Orlando's rucksack finally appeared he was almost too weak to lift it.

"Poncy elf," said Billy, lifting a bag twice his size as easily as if it were a toaster.

"Short arse," said Orlando, beginning to find his feet.

 **Step 2: Nocking the arrow**

 _For target archery, the index, second and third fingers are used.  
Hold the string with your index finger above the nock and second and third fingers under the nock.  
Hook the string between first and second joint. Make sure to maintain a deep hook._

The rain held off long enough to make Billy's idea of a welcome barbeque for Ian not such a daft idea. It was still bloody cold though. Orlando lurked beneath a sheltering tree, warming his hands around a cigarette. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, and then snapped them open again when he felt something run into him.

"You are tall," Ali said to Orlando, looking doubtfully up at him from somewhere around his shins.

Orlando bent down until his face was level with hers. "You are small," he replied.

"Why?" asked Ali, twisting a lock of hair around one finger.

"Because you haven't finished growing yet," said Orlando.

"Is daddy growed?" Ali asked, as Sean swooped down on her, swinging her up onto one hip.

"Daddy's never going to grow as tall as Orli, sweetheart," Sean said, with just a slight edge to his voice. Orlando frowned - sometimes he suspected that the only way he would truly be admitted to the hobbit club was to hack his legs off at the knees.

Dominic wandered over to cadge a light off Orli. "You know the stunties are running a sweepstake on which one of us gets fired first," he whispered, his eyes glittering. "My money's on Stuart," he added, nodding towards the door to the house, where Stuart and Peter were engrossed in what looked like yet another tense conversation. Orlando felt sorry for Stuart, but at the same time, grimly determined that he would never be in Stuart's shoes, no matter what it took.

"Dom winding you up again is he?" Billy interrupted, sliding an arm around Orlando and scowling at Dominic.

"Nah, nah, we're cool," said Orlando, leaning gratefully into the sideways hug.

"Come on, I want you to meet Ian," said Billy, tugging Orlando with him.

Half an hour later, Ian was still looking at Orlando as if he were the most fascinating conversationalist in the world, which Orlando frankly doubted. There were things that Ian could teach Orlando however, and Orlando wasn't above fluttering his eyelashes to find out more.

"I'm kind of struggling to find a way into my character," Orlando admitted. "Maybe you could give me a few tips?"

"Some of our greatest thespians have been method actors," Ian said, his eyes twinkling. "Of course, it requires a great deal of dedication. There's a story that Laurence Olivier watched Dustin Hoffman run round the block six times to get just the right degree of breathlessness for a scene in "Marathon Man," and then said to him, "Why not just try _acting_ , dear boy, it's so much less painful."

Orlando nodded, amused. "So much for _'become the elf!'_ "

Ian chuckled. "What you need is a hook, a way inside his head," he said, warming to his theme. "Sometimes it's as simple as a piece of costume, or a physical trait. Other characters you need to create a whole interior life for, particularly when they don't have many lines."

"Yeah, yeah, right," said Orlando. "And half of those are in Elvish."

"Find the hook," said Ian sagely, before allowing himself to be coaxed away by Billy to meet more guests.

Easier said than done, thought Orlando.

 **Step 3: Bow arm**

 _Place the bow hand into the grip of the bow with the centreline of the vee between the thumb and index finger.  
The back of the hand should make an angle of 45 degrees  
The tips of thumb and finger may touch each other in a relaxed way._

Every day as he drove along the coast road to the firing range, Orlando tried to figure Legolas out. The truth was, Leggy was everything Orlando was not. Leggy was an elf of few words, and fewer adverbs. Words flew out of Orlando's mouth like bees from a hive, swarming in all directions. Orlando winced as he remembered Dom's impression of Orlando ordering a drink at a bar – "Basically, essentially, actually, honestly, obviously, I just sort of want a beer, y'know?" Dominic was a complete bitch, of course, but his barbs were always perfectly aimed. Leggy wouldn't lose his cool in the face of such provocation. Leggy moved through the world with cat-like grace and self-assurance; Orlando could capsize in a puddle, walked into trees and tripped over his own feet. Orlando wasn't that sure that he actually _liked_ Leggy. He was too perfect, too untouchable, the sort of person who got duffed over behind the bike sheds for being teacher's pet. He was beginning to get an inferiority complex to his character, and he wasn't even real.

"Relax," said Jan, gently tapping Orlando's fingers where he held the bow in a death-like grip. "The bow is a part of you, you are not going to drop it."

"Breathe," said Bob, before launching into a two handed attack with a broadsword that backed Orlando into a corner.

"This may hurt a little," said his physio, as he corkscrewed an elbow into the small of Orlando's back.

"Time for lunch," said Liv, and Orlando was so grateful to see her, he kissed her soundly on the lips until she pushed him away, laughing.

The weather wasn't quite warm enough to sit outside, but they did so anyway, side by side facing the sea, with their collars turned up against the wind. In front of them, a ferry made its way slowly across the bay towards the South Island.

"Two weeks until we start filming, and I still haven't got a clue who Arwen is," said Liv, disconsolately stirring whipped cream into her hot chocolate. "I mean, is she some sort of female ninja elf, or just Aragorn's wet dream?"

Orlando snorted cappuccino froth up his nose. Liv patted his back pityingly before continuing. "And Aragorn. I mean...I know Stuart is trying, but I just don't think he's got what it takes," Liv sighed. "Do you think we've made a horrible mistake? Is this going to be the biggest flop of all time?"

"Peter will work it out," said Orlando, with more confidence than he felt. After a while Liv slipped one hand into his, the tips of her fingers stroking soothingly across the back of his hand as they stared out to sea, two fellow travellers watching the shoreline recede.

 **Step 4: Drawing the bow**

 _Bring the bow arm to shoulder height.  
Draw the string along the bow arm in a straight horizontal line to the anchor point.  
Draw with your back muscles, keeping both shoulders as low as possible._

Drawing the bowstring back was hard work, like holding onto Maude's lead when she'd scented rabbits. The muscles in Orlando's back bunched and twitched. Jan gently pushed Orlando's shoulders down, turning him slightly. For a moment, Orlando felt he almost had it, the weight perfectly balanced across his body. Then there was a yelp from the undergrowth.

"Orlando! Orlando!!" Elijah burst through into the clearing, skidding to a halt in front of them. Jan clucked disapprovingly as Orlando set the bow down.

"What?" asked Orlando, prickly with irritation.

"Peter's fired Stuart, he's flying home tomorrow!"

"Fuck!" said Orlando. Poor Stuart. Then the true horror of it sank in. "Who's going to play Aragorn?"

"Peter's trying to find someone, he says he has someone in mind, I don't know," Elijah stammered, and part of Orlando noted with interest that it was the first time he had really seen Elijah lose his cool.

"I'm sure he'll get someone," Jan said mildly, as if such news was nothing to be worried about. "Now, if you don't mind, Elijah, Orlando has work to do."

Elijah nodded apologetically, already backing away.

"I'll call you later, yeah?" Orlando shouted after him. When he picked up the bow again he was dismayed to find that his hands were shaking as if he'd walked away from a car crash. He could already feel Peter tapping him on the shoulder, saying, "I'm sorry, Orlando, we made a mistake."

Jan watched him for a moment, and then reached out to steady the bow. "Lightning doesn't strike twice," he said calmly. Orlando nodded, hoping he was right.

 **Step 5: Anchoring**

 _The string should touch the middle of the chin ("the anchor.")  
Place the index finger firmly under the chin.  
Keep your mouth shut._

It was a curious thing, but within a week of Stuart's departure it was as if he had never existed. His name was carefully edited out of everyone's stories; his photos disappeared from the collage on the wardrobe department's wall. Little gifts that he had bought cast and crew were put away out of sight, and when Orlando drove past the house Stuart had rented, it had already been let to someone else. Stuart was the body under the patio no one wanted to talk about.

"Well," said Viggo, surveying the rather sombre gathering that was his welcome party. "Seems like I have a lot of catching up to do."

In the days that followed, all that anyone talked about was Viggo. Viggo, and his amazing ability to wield a sword with only a couple of hours' training. Viggo, the horse whisperer, snake charmer, poet, artist.

"I fucking hate him," said Dom, blowing smoke viciously through his nostrils.

"You didna much like Stuart, either," said Billy reasonably, draining the last of his beer.

"He's a fucking weirdo," Elijah agreed. "But sort of cool."

Dominic snorted. "Get us another beer, will you Orli?"

"Do I look like Dobby?" said Orli. "They're in the fridge."

"Ever the gracious host," muttered Dominic, hauling himself out of his armchair.

"What have you got against him, anyway?" asked Orlando.

"Peter acts like he's the centre of the universe," called out Dom from the kitchen.

"Ah, you're just jealous," said Billy. "Bring me another beer while you're at it, and none of that "Bookbinders' Bitter" crap, it wasn't funny the first time."

Dominic reappeared, clutching cold beer bottles. "I can't believe he's that good at everything, no one is."

"Let's just hope to God Peter stays happy with him," said Elijah, a statement no one could disagree with.

 **Step 6: Holding**

 _Holding is where the tension is maintained in the back muscles and then the bow is moved to align the sight to the centre of the target._

"Cut!" said Peter, and Orlando stood up gratefully, stretching the tension out of his legs. Three days into shooting the Council of Elrond scene, and he felt like he was stuck in a new age encounter session, facilitated by Hugo. "Hello, my name is Frodo, and I've been a ring bearer for 17 years..." Around him, his fellow council members slumped in their seats, or sloped off for a crafty cigarette. Orlando felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned round to find Viggo smiling at him.

"You know, I can see your lips moving when other people are speaking their lines," Viggo said, softly.

"Shit," said Orlando, his fingers curling with embarrassment. "Really?"

"It's easily done, especially when you're thinking about your next line," said Viggo. "Is this your first big shoot?"

"Yeah," said Orlando. "I mean, I've done a few bits and pieces, but basically, yeah."

"In at the deep end, then," said Viggo. "I know how you feel."

"But you, you've done loads of stuff," protested Orlando.

Viggo shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing as big as this. The first day I got here I was charged by Orcs. It's been kinda uphill from there." He grinned crookedly, and Orlando found himself smiling back.

"You wouldn't know it to watch you – you've really nailed Aragorn," said Orlando. "I'm not sure I'll ever figure Leggy out, even in an 18 month shoot."

"You worry too much," said Viggo. "Hardly any of it is down to you in the end – by the time the costume people have done their work, and the make up girls, and the lighting man, and the sound editor, and the props assistants, all you have to do is try to remember where you were standing and not trip over your sword."

Orlando laughed ruefully. If only acting really was as easy as shooting paper plates thrown in the air.

"Hang in there, it will come," said Viggo, kindly, patting Orlando gently on the shoulder.

 **Step 7: Aiming**

 _Aiming is done with the dominant eye. Shut the other eye.  
Keep the sight on the target  
Keep the string a little left of the sight._

Orlando and Liv stood shivering in the doorway to Orlando's trailer, watching the rain turn into sleet. Liv had a hot water bottle under each arm, and Orlando wound a hand around her waist, seeking warmth. She leant into him slightly, chuckling. In front of them, out in the clearing, Viggo was practising with his sword, the blade gleaming duly against the grey sky.

"How long has he been out there?" asked Orlando.

"Hours. Look, he almost had it that time," said Liv, tracing the calligraphy of feint and attack in the air with one hand.

As they watched, the sleet turned to snow, great flurries swirling around Viggo until he seemed to be fighting snowflakes. And still he did not stop. Unconsciously, Orlando closed one eye, sighting Viggo like a target.

"He really is Aragorn," said Liv wonderingly.

"He's a bloody nutter," said Orlando, but he could not disguise the admiration in his voice.

"Oi, Orlando, are you coming to the bar? Liv?" Dom's dulcet tones rang out from the next trailer, making them both jump.

"Viggo, you daft bugger, put that sword down an' come for a whiskey!" Billy called, earning an answering wave and a thumbs up from Viggo.

"I'll see you down there," said Liv. "I need to thaw out in a long hot bath first."

Several hours later, Orlando was happily wedged in between hobbits in front of the hotel's log fire. Liv and the others had long gone to bed, and they were down to the last fifth of whiskey. Elijah lay stretched out on the carpet beneath them, his head pillowed on Orlando's feet. Viggo snored quietly in an armchair to their right, his sword on the floor beside him. Orlando could feel his eyes closing, and he did not want to fall asleep just yet.

"So come on, Dominic," Sean asked. "What's the most useful German phrase you know?"

"Ich bekomme die minibar nicht auf," replied Dom.

"I can't get the minibar open?" said Billy incredulously. "You're too shallow to drown a rat in, boy."

"All right then," said Dominic. "What's the most useful phrase in Scottish?"

"Haud your wheesht, ye blethering skite!" Billy said, slapping Dominic gently with one hand.

"And the entry from across the pond?" asked Orlando, nudging the supine form of Elijah with his toe.

Elijah grabbed Orlando's Nike slippered foot and giggled. "Nice shoes, wanna fuck?"

"Foot fetishist," chuckled Orlando, trying to shake himself free. Elijah tightened his hold and started to drag him down, Billy grabbed Orlando's shoulders to pull him back, Sean tried to pull the two of them apart and then that was it, the five of them were rolling across the carpet like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, shrieking insults and banging into the furniture.

"Hey, hey," said Viggo, waking up. "Mind the sword!"

Orlando and Billy looked at each other, then took a leg each and dragged Viggo down into the fray.

"Ompf!" said Viggo, flailing wildly. "Did I miss something?"

"Welcome to the fellowship," said Dom, grabbing one of Viggo's bare feet and tickling it.

 **Step 8: The release**

 _Keep pulling the shoulder blades towards each other, while relaxing the fingers of the drawing hand  
To release the arrow correctly, the three fingers holding the bow strong must allow the string to slip smoothly off the fingers at the same time._

The moment when Orlando finally cracked Legolas, he was concentrating so hard on pulling off a tricky double arrow shot he did not even notice it at first.

"That's good, Orlando, perfect," said Peter, "absolutely what I wanted, thank you." He waved at the waiting crew. "That's a wrap for the day, people."

"Go, elf!" said Viggo, slapping Orlando soundly on the back.

"Thanks, man," said Orlando, grinning from ear to ear.

"Show off," said Dom.

"Now, now young Dominic, I can think of better uses for that viperous tongue of yours," said Ian archly, tucking an arm through Dominic's and drawing him away. A moment later Dominic giggled, high pitched and delighted. Orlando looked after them, frowning. Whenever those two got together there was serious mischief afoot.

"Come on, Orlando, I'll buy you a drink," said Viggo. The two of them fell into step walking back to their trailer.

"You know, I think I really have figured Leggy out at last," said Orlando. "He's the eyes and ears of the fellowship. Gandalf's the brain, Boromir is the spleen, and Aragorn is the heart."

Viggo snorted. "What are the hobbits then?"

"The stomach, probably," laughed Orlando.

"Not the feet?" asked Viggo, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, too obvious," said Orlando, struggling to get the quiver over his head as they walked up the steps to their trailer. Behind them, the sun was setting on what had been their first dry day since coming to Queenstown.

"Here, let me," said Viggo, and his hands were curiously gentle as they guided Orlando's head through the loop. Orlando found himself leaning into the touch, wondering if the calluses on Viggo's hands would match his own. _"Oh,"_ he thought, stupidly. All this time he'd been so focussed on Leggy's motivation he'd been way off target about his own.

"What?" asked Viggo, and Orlando wanted to turn away, crack a joke, make light of the moment. Instead he stood looking into Viggo's eyes, really looking, and the moment stretched taut between them until understanding hit and Viggo slowly, slowly, leant in to frame Orlando's face with both hands, looking wonderingly at him as he brought their lips together for the first time.

 **Step 9: Follow through**

 _Maintain the position of the bow arm on release until the arrow hits the target._

Two days before the end of filming, Orlando's bow broke. He climbed up a nearby rocky outcrop until he was out of sight, and then sat staring incredulously at the pieces in his hands. After all the months they had been together, his talisman had reverted to nothing more than a shattered steel rod encased in rubber.

Below him, he could see the crew packing up for the day, but he could not face going back down to them yet. It was stupid to get this upset about a prop, but he could not help it, he was almost in tears.

"All things come to an end," said Viggo, softly, making him jump. Orlando had been so engrossed in his thoughts he had not heard Viggo climbing up behind him.

"Even Legolas eventually set sail for the grey havens," Viggo said, sliding his arms around Orlando and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"I don't want to lose him," whispered Orlando.

"I don't want to lose him either," said Viggo, tightening his grip around Orlando's waist.

"Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that," said Orlando, turning round in the circle of Viggo's arms and pulling him into a fierce embrace, and suddenly a broken bow did not seem so important after all.


End file.
